Not sure how to start this installment of the Clomid Chronicles. I mean it was a stellar 45 days with so much to tell. So let’s just start from the beginning. We upped the dosage, again. I was taking a small child’s handful of pills every morning. Then a wave of germs hit our house turning our lives on the side for a few weeks. I ended up with a cold, Juanito with some “stomach issues” and The Boy had both. We were all a mess. I took a lot of ibuprofen to handle the aches and pains of a cold. Only to find out that it would mask any ovulation indication on my temperature chart. Oh, good to know. When I went into the doctor they checked my CM and said that per that I did ovulate. I didn’t get too excited because they said that last time. Then they did the blood work. When they called back the next day I was told that my blood work did not show that I ovulated but come in again. They think I might have ovulated late. Again, same routine as last month.
When I was feeling better I quit taking the ibuprofen and after a few days my chart indicated ovulation, but way after time intercourse or also know as DTD, or baby making time or happy fun time. So I was already thinking that yes I did ovulate and hoping we did it close enough to whatever that timeframe would be. The blood work came back AFTER the Thanksgiving weekend, which was no fun waiting, but it confirmed that I did ovulate. I was officially in the 2WW (two week wait) to see if I would start a period or be pregnant. Everything was positive. I had sore boobs, I had the right kinda CM, and my temperature remained elevated and most important I passed the date that I should have started a period without starting one. I WAS LATE! I hatched a plan on how to tell my family at Christmas. But I was afraid that I was wrong. I was afraid that I had all this hope, bigger and brighter than ever, and that the test would be negative. I didn’t want to test. I didn't want to even buy tests. I was gun shy. You see it’s like I divide in half during the 2WW. I have this hope and I carry it in my heart. I think if I care and nurture this hope it will somehow cosmically make me pregnant. But the other half of me is the stoic, sensible side that says don’t over think this and wait until its confirmed. Go on about your business. Nothing to see here.
Finally Sunday morning I tested (Juanito bought tests for me). I left the test on the side of the bath tub and made Juanito go in and read it. He came back into the bedroom and shook his head no. The Hope Side told my head that since I ovulated late then it’s too early. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Do it again in a few days! So I did and still negative, no matter how many times I looked at it. So a few days later when I still hadn’t started my period I called the doctor. They wanted me to wait before taking the Provera (the regular protocol). Ironically that night I started my period. I woke up in the middle of the night with stabbing cramps. It was a delightful little present.
We contemplated taking a break because its been an emotional few months. Juanito said he wanted to continue because we’re getting closer, but that it wasn’t his body going through it. I love him for listening to me when I rant and cry about all of this and for retaining the more important points. When the dust settled I decided that we are getting closer and this stupid PCOS isn’t gonna tell when and where (even though it really does). I’m not stopping because of a bunch of crying. So here we go round four. Lucky Round Number Four.